ETHAN

The party was a roaring success, just like the other parties hosted by Mrs Valeria. I honestly wasn't surprised by the way it seemed, I was used to stuff like this. I had grown up in this and I absolutely hated it.

The expectations. It all didn't make sense to me.

The memory of my parents cornering me on the balcony, their relentless pressure about marriage, and carrying on the family's name In case something happened to me echoed in my head. Someone would think they were actually planning to harm me by the way they seemed hell-bent on getting me to settle down.

"Ethan, you're not getting any younger," my mother's voice, was high-pitched as she spoke to me. "It's time you found a nice girl and started a family."

"I'm not interested in getting married," I'd retorted, my gaze sweeping over the familiar nightlife of New York City.

My father's booming voice joined the chorus. "Don't be ridiculous. You need to carry on the family name."

I'd scoffed inwardly. The family name can carry on itself.

They always expected something high from me and I was tired of it. I needed a way to escape from the world around me and in that moment of desperation, I'd made a call I now regretted.

The knock on my hotel room door startled me from my silent brooding and I wondered if I could just ignore it but no, I needed this. I opened it, expecting to see the woman I'd paid for, a temporary distraction from the reality of my messed up life.

But the woman standing there was not who I expected.

She was petite, with long brown hair and big brown eyes. She was wearing a simple black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. She looked...as if she was filled with false bravado. And nothing like the image I'd conjured in my mind.

"You asked for me?" she slurred her voice a melodious tune that made me frown.

Confusion washed over me. Had they sent the wrong girl? But then a flicker of something flashed in her eyes.

"Oh," she giggled, "You're not him."

Disappointment mingled with annoyance coursed through me. This was not what I needed.

"Let me in," she mumbled, her body leaning heavily against the doorframe.

I hesitated. This seemed wrong for some reason. She seemed inexperienced and I wondered why they had sent a newbie to my room. I wanted to send her back but I couldn't deny that she was extremely attractive and the memories from my parent's nagging and my inability to speak up came rushing back. I needed an outlet.

I stepped aside, and she stumbled into the room.

The moment the door closed behind her, she turned and pressed herself against me, her hands roaming over my chest. Her breath was hot against my neck, and the scent of spice and something sweeter clung to her.

"You're so handsome," she breathed out, her voice husky. "You look almost yummy." Then she giggled.

I stiffened. This was beyond unprofessional.

"Look," I said, trying to gently push her away. "Are you alright?."

I would so kick my assistant's ass the next morning for sending me someone who couldn't even get a single sentence out without giggling.

She giggled again. "I don't know," she admitted. "But I know what I want."

Her lips found mine, and I groaned inwardly. I knew I should stop this.

"This isn't..." I began, but she cut me off with another kiss, her hands tangling in my hair.

"Shh," she whispered against my lips. "Don't talk. Just kiss me."

And I did. Her touch was intoxicating, her body soft and molded easily against me, her hands tangling in my hair. I groaned and my hands found their way to her neck, pulling her closer as I forced my tongue into her mouth.

Fucking nirvana.

"You're so different from the others," she murmured, her fingers tracing the lines of my face. "So cold, so distant. But I see the fire in your eyes."

My eyes flashed with confusion. Was it that obvious? Did everyone see the turmoil beneath my facade that I tried to keep up?

"You don't know me," I said, my voice rough.

"I want to," she breathed, her eyes filled with pure lust as she breathed heavily. "I want to know all of you."

I gave in, letting my desire fuel my actions. We moved to the bed, our clothes discarded in a frenzy.

Her skin was warm and smooth beneath my hands, and her moans filled the room.

It was fast and furious, just an outlet for me to let out the frustration. But even in the midst of it, a part of me felt detached, like I was doing something wrong. This was her job though, wasn't it? Why did I feel like I was doing so something wrong? This wasn't me. This wasn't how I wanted things to be.

Afterward, she lay curled up beside me, her breathing slow and even as she dozed off. I stared at the ceiling, my mind a mess. What had I just done?

I'd used her. Just like my parents were trying to use me.

The thought made me gag and I hated myself instantly.

I got out of bed and went to the bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash away the guilt and confusion I felt, my blue eyes shining in the dim light of the spacious bathroom while my hands gripped the spotless sink as I turned on the faucet. When I returned to the bedroom, she was still lying there. I wanted to wake her up and send her out but I couldn't so I left her. She could stay the night. I didn't mind.

I went to the window and looked out at the city lights. The party was still going strong, I knew that much but I didn't want to be a part of it. I had come to my room and asked for a prostitute to help me get over my anger but now I was feeling more empty.

I'd made a mistake. A big one. This wasn't my first time hiring women but this time… I felt empty.